


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Jack is too old for this crap, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Moira is the only good person for once, Pheromones, Possessive Reaper, Rimming, Talon - Freeform, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: It's been almost a decade since Jack has had a heat cycle. That suddenly changes when he's captured and shoved into a room with Reaper—his former mate from a life left behind. Reaper has competition this time, though, and he's not eager to share.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I always told myself I would never write an ABO fic, and yet here I am laying my humble wares at your feet.
> 
> Written for a Tumblr request!

Jack knew he shouldn't have gone after the compound.

He should've gathered more intel about the location first, seeing as how he had no idea what to expect once he actually made it inside. It was still too early in the day—he should’ve done it as a night op. Should have waited until Ana could have provided support.

That damn word _should._

In his defense, though, it had been the perfect opportunity. Talon was having a meeting, and, rumor had it, several executives were there. He couldn't just pass up a golden opportunity like that! By the time he would have normally finished reconnaissance, the executives probably would have been gone. So he’d had to act fast.

He had managed to easily take down the two soldiers guarding the door to the compound. However, he had not been expecting the next four soldiers that had soon joined them. The first and second soldiers had gone down with little effort, but the third and fourth were more of a struggle in that one had actually _tased him_ in the back. (Who the hell even still used taser guns?)

Cue him having his hands bound behind his back and being paraded around the compound for all to see with a rifle poking him in the back just waiting to blow out his spine should he act out.

The hallways in the compound seemed to stretch on forever. Plain gray doors lined the plain blue halls on each side. It was hard to make sense of which door led where and it reminded Jack of an office building in that sense. The two guards finally stopped at a set of double doors. Off to the side was a silver sign that read _Conference Room C._

The guards opened the doors with little fanfare and pushed him in. There were at least eight pairs of eyes on him the moment he set foot in that room. It was hard to make out faces with the dim lighting and the collar of his jacket being held tight, but he could distinguish a few of their features. Doomfist, the leader of Talon, was there; he'd recognize that mechanical arm anywhere. That geneticist that had been fired from Overwatch. Some other no doubt important people he didn't recognize.

He was trying to survey the room and get an idea of his surroundings when it hit him like a wave: Reyes was there, and his stomach immediately dropped at the realization. The place reeked of him, his scent all-encompassing in the smaller quarters. It was the same scent that had followed him to Egypt and haunted his dreams each night. The scent of his enemy. His former friend. The man who had once been his alpha. Jack shook the thought from his head.

76 lifted his head to the best of his abilities, his eyes flitting around the room. Finally, they settled on the bone-white skull mask that he immediately recognized as belonging to _him._ His arms were crossed in front of his chest, looking as unimpressed as ever. Reaper must have picked up on his scent as soon as he did, because he noticed him perk up and tilt his head at him. All eyes were glued to him and it was starting to make 76 feel uncomfortable.

A sudden warmth started to bloom in his core. It rose up into his torso and face and it quickly became too damn hot in the room despite the weather being barely above freezing outside. He had felt perfectly fine earlier, all things considered… The sensation was foreign and familiar all at once. He felt lightheaded, as if he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself up if the guards were to release their grip on his shoulders and collar.

It almost felt like a heat, but he hadn't had one in years… Almost a decade. Yet that was the only reasonable explanation he had at that moment for why his body decided that now was a good time for an erection and why he suddenly felt so fucking aroused for no reason! Usually, his heats had been a slow build across the span of a couple of days, but this had completely blindsided him.

Of all the fucking times, why now? He hadn’t had one on forever—people his age shouldn't even be having them anymore—and yet his hormones chose now of all times to rear their ugly head. It wasn't fair! Had he known that his body was going to suddenly decide to go into full breeding mode, he could have taken at least some preventive measures. But now he had nothing, left to the mercy of his own body’s reactions and a room with what smelled like two—maybe three—very potent Talon alphas. He had to get out of there _fast._

Just his luck.

The two Talon guards released their hold on 76’s shoulders and pushed, sending him sprawling to the ground. He managed to catch himself on his knees before his face could make contact with the ground.

Silence filled the room for several long moments.

The first guard spoke up, “We caught this one poking around outside of the base, sir. He killed four of our other troops, but we finally managed to subdue him. We thought it would be best for you to decide what to do with him.”

The second guard followed. ”We believe that this man is the wanted vigilante Soldier: 76 that has been causing us so much trouble as of late, sir.”

76 rose up onto his knees, his hands still bound behind him, and dared to look up. The table of Talon executives were staring at him expectantly.

“Soldier: 76?” Doomfist, who was sitting at the head of the table, smiled and stood up from his seat. His dark eyes sparkled with humor, but Jack knew better. This man was deadly. “I’ve heard of that name! You're the one that’s been messing with _Los Muertos_ recently, correct?” He continued, not giving 76 enough time to answer, ”I also heard that you've had a particular interest in our organization recently.”

Doomfist began to saunter towards Jack but paused when he was halfway to him. He lifted his head and the vigilante immediately knew that he was smelling the air. A sense of heavy dread filled him, his overactive mind thinking of all the worst case scenarios.

The Talon leader’s dark eyebrows shot upwards, a small frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “Surely…” he muttered and glanced around the room, catching the eyes of whoever dared to look back at him, before his eyes settled on Jack again. The frown turned into a teeth-baring smile at last. “Well. Who would have thought that the man so intent on bringing about the downfall of my organization was an _omega_ of all things? How adorable.”

Jack winced. _Damn hormones!_ Doomfist’s smile was purely predatory, like a wolf just waiting to tear into him. There was no longer any humor behind his eyes.

“You're a rare breed, Soldier: 76. I had planned on killing you, but this changes everything, doesn't it?” Doomfist squared his shoulders up and patted his thigh. “Come to me.”

Like he was some fucking dog and not a grown-ass man!

Jack heard the sound of a chair screeching on wood somewhere in front of him. He didn't dare break eye contact with Doomfist, though, no matter how much the small instinctual voice inside his head was screaming at him to stop.

Upon getting no response from him, Doomfist's smile dropped into a frown. He started advancing towards Jack again.

An abrasive voice filled the room. “ _Back the fuck off._ That one’s mine,” Reaper growled out from behind gritted teeth, knocking his chair over with a metallic clang as he quickly stood up. Jack looked over to find him sizing up Doomfist, his posture rigid. Plumes of black smoke whipped around his sides like an angry storm.

Doomfist turned around at that, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, is he, now?” He paused and lifted his head to scent the air. “Strange, because I don't smell you anywhere on him.” He took another step towards Jack while still holding Reaper’s gaze.

The vigilante couldn't help but take a step back. He wasn't intimidated by either of these men normally, but he had seen his fair share of overly aggressive alphas before; they were not to be taken lightly. And he didn't like the look in Doomfist’s eyes.

Reaper refused to break eye contact. Jack noticed him tense. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he were itching to grab the shotguns Jack knew he kept holstered behind his coat.

“Are you challenging me, Reaper?” Doomfist asked. His voice was abnormally level—the calm before the storm.

Reaper clenched his fists, but said nothing.

Doomfist scoffed and turned his back towards Reaper to face Jack again. “That’s right. Mind your place, little dog.”

With that, Reaper launched himself at the other man with a snarl, a thick streak of dark smoke trailing behind him. It was enough to catch Doomfist off guard as he turned around in time to catch Reaper throwing his body weight at him. The two toppled to the ground with Reaper on top, straddling his chest. The wraith struggled to retain his position as Doomfist wildly bucked his hips in an attempt to throw him off. The Talon leader threw a punch with the powerful mechanical arm, but Reaper managed to turn the upper right of his torso into smoke fast enough to dodge the blow. He countered with a slew of his own punches, each one striking Doomfist’s jaw hard enough to make his teeth rattle in his skull. The other man was finally able to throw Reaper off, but Reaper was quick to scrabble up onto his feet.

Jack could smell the acrid tang blood in the air.

The two started to slowly circle around one another. Doomfist’s fists were up in an offensive position, his stance wide. In sharp contrast, Reaper’s arms were still down at his sides with his fists clenched. There was a feral look in both of their eyes, Jack noticed. He hated the fact that they were fighting over him, as if he was just some prize to win; whoever won got to fuck the omega—whether he liked it or not. He hated his genetics, that he was stuck with something he had no control over in the end. He had been a decorated leader of a world-renowned organization, yet so many people couldn't let go of the fact that he was an omega once they got word. It was humiliating and he thought he had finally been past that.

Doomfist took the first move. He stepped forward, as if he was about to go in for an attack, before hopping to the side and rushing forward. He managed to land a hook to Reaper’s face with the mechanical arm and followed up with a jab to his gut. Reaper grunted and raised his arms to protect his face, leaving an opening for Doomfist to continue landing hits to his stomach. There was a trickle of blood starting to drip down to the floor from the bottom of Reaper’s mask.

Doomfist slid a hand beneath Reaper's arms and clamped down on his throat. Reaper let out a pained gasp and grabbed at Doomfist's arms, his metallic claws digging into him and causing rivulets of blood to well up along his bare skin. Before Doomfist could land another punch to his face, Reaper disintegrated into a cloud of smoke only to materialize behind him. He pulled an arm back and punched Doomfist below his ribs on the right side.

The Talon leader wheezed and wrapped his arms around his abdomen before collapsing onto his knees, his breathing strained and irregular. Reaper was over him in an instant with a steel-toed boot pressing into his back. He pushed him forward until Doomfist was kneeling, his face pressed into the floor as he tried to recover from the waves of pain no doubt radiating in his abdomen. With a feral roar, Reaper pressed on his back harder with his boot and pulled out his shotguns, aiming them at Doomfist's head.

“ _Gabriel,_ ” the red-haired geneticist snapped. She stood up from her seat and fixed the wraith with an icy glare. Her poise and rigid posture exuded authority.

Reaper snapped his attention to her, glared back down at Doomfist, and looked back to her before holstering his weapons with a grunt. He gave him one last kick to the ribs before finally picking himself up off of the other man.

Doomfist rolled onto his back, groaning past gritted teeth. The left side of his face was starting to swell. In a way, Jack almost pitied the man; he'd been hit in the kidneys enough times to know exactly how miserable it was.

The geneticist scooted her chair back. “I'm not going to sit here and watch you two bite and snap over this man like feral beasts. Have some class.” She scooped up a folder of paperwork from the table and neatly tucked it under one arm. “I'm leaving.”

Reaper snorted in response. His eyes tracked the geneticist as she wordlessly left the room. Once the door had clicked shut behind her, Jack felt like the wraith's eyes were piercing into his very soul again.

_His prize._

Reaper was squaring him up, seemingly looking over every square inch of his body. Jack held his ground with an unimpressed sneer on his face despite the fact that he was still on his knees with his hands cuffed behind him. He was doing his best to appear unfazed, yet he could already feel his body starting to betray him. Some part of him—the primitive part—had found the two of them fighting over him extremely hot. His brain had been drawn to Doomfist's prominent muscles, Reaper's feral growl each time he landed a blow. How well-endowed each of them probably were and how well they could fill him. His insides felt scorching hot at the thought of it. _Fuck, he needed something inside him._ He immediately tried his best to shake the idea away.

 _“_ What are you doing here?” Reaper asked him, wiping at the streak of blood dripping down his jaw with the back of his hand. His voice was unnaturally calm for someone who had just had the shit beat out of him

“I’m not interested,” 76 asserted.

“That's not what I asked. I asked what you were doing here.”

His knees were starting to kill him. He went to stand up, but a boot on his back kept him in place. “I was in the area. Thought I'd stop by and say hi.”

“I'd almost believe it.” Reaper raised his head, as if scenting the air. “Awfully bold of you to show yourself during your heat.” He paused. ”And without scent suppressors.”

76 groaned inwardly. This wasn't good if his heat was that obvious. Hell, it’d just started! Why was the scent that strong already?

Reaper began walking towards him, tall and imposing. His expression was unreadable behind his mask, a white slate void of emotion. 76 wished he knew what the terrorist was thinking. He came to a stop a few feet away from him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Get up.”

The heavy boot on his back pulled away and 76 obliged—not because Reaper had demanded it, but because he knew he would be sore the next day if he didn't.

Reaper began to close the gap between them and 76 curled his lip. This was enough to make Reaper pause for a split second, but he continued his advances. The minute he was in reach, 76 brought the front of his head down, aiming the attack at Reaper's mask-clad face. Reaper dodged the blow by stepping to the side, using the opportunity to close the distance until their chests were touching.

His smell was intoxicating at this range, a heady mix of testosterone and gunpowder that clung to his skin and made him want to bury his face into the crook of Reaper's neck. His legs were shaking and _god_ he hoped that the wraith hadn't noticed.

“You put up a good front, but I can smell the stench of your arousal clear as day. I could smell you the minute you walked into this room.”

Reaper roughly pulled the collar of Jack's jacket aside and ran a thumb along the sensitive skin on his neck. “Your marking has almost faded away, I see.”

76 sneered at the wraith. “Thankfully.” The damn thing couldn't go away fast enough. He longed to leave that life—the life as an omega, the life in which he and Reyes had once been mated—far behind. That was not the life for him. Never had been. He was meant to be a soldier, not some bed-warmer for someone who thought they were better than him. But _damn_ if the idea of the wraith taking him over that table didn't sound enticing…

His boxers were starting to become damp with his slick, a part of his heat that he definitely hadn't missed. The heat rose in his face, a brick of shame sitting heavy in his gut. He let his head loll forward until it was resting on Reaper's chest, sending small shivers up his spine. From this distance, he could hear Reaper's erratic breathing, his rapid heartbeat. His scent flooded his senses.

Jack's breath hitched as Reaper growled and started walking him backwards until his thighs hit the edge of the table. 76 glanced backwards; four people were still sitting at the table. Three of them looked _extremely_ uncomfortable, their eyes looking anywhere but at them. The fourth person, a woman next to him who looked to be in her early 30s, met his eyes with her own brown ones and actually _smiled._ One of the four smelled like an alpha, and if 76 was a betting man he'd put money down on her.

76 was brought back to the current situation by the sound of a low rumble in Reaper’s throat. He was staring at the woman. She turned his attention from him to Reaper, daring to meet his gaze. The two seemed to stare at one another for what felt like forever until the woman finally looked away, a scornful look on her face.

76 was still painfully hard. There was nothing erotic about the whole situation; he knew that. Yet something about Reaper being this close to him—his displays of dominance, the possessive hand on his hip—were making his brain overheat. A small groan slipped past his lips and he immediately cringed in regret. Reaper quickly looked back at him, apparently just as surprised as he was. The grip on his hip tightened.

“Can I fuck you?” Reaper panted.

His eyebrows shot up. As appreciated as it was, 76 hadn't been expecting _that_ out of the wraith’s mouth. “Do I get a choice in the matter?”

“Yes. I’m not an animal and won’t force myself on you. You’ll be a prisoner either way, but…” Reaper shifted uncomfortably, ”if you want this as much as I fucking do right now…”

He really did. His body was _screaming_ for it. Either way, they would take him hostage. But if he broke down and just gave himself over to Talon—to Reaper—like this…

76 swallowed heavily, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He nodded his head and suddenly his mouth felt painfully dry.

Reaper’s shoulders sagged, as if he had let out a held breath, and the grip on his hip tightened even more, the steel claws on the tips of Reaper's gloves almost digging through the fabric of his cargo pants and into his sensitive skin. He drew his free hand up and along 76’s side before resting it on his jaw, just long enough for him to lean into the touch, and tore the front plate off from his visor. The visor was tossed to the ground as if it wasn't a piece of technology worth thousands of dollars and 76 had to resist the urge to try and headbutt the wraith again.

“Turn around.”

76 flashed him a teeth-baring grin. “Unbind my hands.” It was worth a shot, he supposed. He probably could break his own restraints, but he liked to think that any attempt at escape at the moment would be unwise in a room full of Talon.

“You don’t make demands here. Turn around.” Reaper shifted his stance and 76 could feel the slightest brush of his hardness against his thigh. It was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

Jack did as he was told anyway, turning around in what little space Reaper gave him with his hands still clamping down on the table on either side of him. His shoulders were starting to ache from the strain of being tied behind his back; Reaper's weight pressing against his wrists and back made it all the worse. He felt rough hands reach around his waist and undo his belt before tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees, the careful drag of claws scraping at his skin.

He heard the slightest intake of breath from behind him. “You're soaked,” Reaper commented, and 76 wished that he still had his visor on just to hide the flush of red that crept up his face at that. It wasn't like he could help it!

There was the sound of fabric rustling and what sounded like clips being undone. A hand pushed him down until he was leaning over the table with Reaper crouching down behind him. Sharp talons groped at his ass and suddenly something warm and wet was licking at him _there._ A yelp escaped 76’s mouth and he had to resist the urge to wiggle away from the wraith who was _very much enjoying himself_ judging from the occasional soft groans coming from him. It wasn't like it was unpleasant—hell, it was the exact opposite—but it had been unexpected, especially from him. He'd never had his ass eaten before and _damn_ was he regretting that now. 76 closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the cold marble surface of the tabletop while Reaper lapped up his slick like it was fucking ambrosia.

76 found himself grinding backwards onto Reaper's tongue, desperate for more contact. He was sure he looked like an idiot, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not with Reaper's tongue occasionally dipping inside him.

“Fuck me?” 76 panted, raising his head enough to cast a glance over his shoulder. He needed something more substantial inside him.

“Gladly.” Reaper gave his ass a slap before standing up behind him. More rustling and the sound of a zipper being undone. Without even giving him a moment to get his bearings together, Reaper was pressing into him, thick and hot, until 76 felt like he was going to burst. _Fuck, he had missed this…_ His head hit the table again, a bit harder than he had intended. The cool tabletop felt nice against his heated skin; it was a sharp contrast to the rest of his fiery body. He was craving more contact, more stimulation, more of anything Reaper was willing to give him.

Reaper's claws were practically piercing the skin of his hips but Jack didn't care. Not when the wraith was pounding his ass hard enough for him to see stars. A moan much louder than he had intended escaped past his lips when Reaper brushed against that sensitive spot inside him again and again. Jack balled up his fists behind him, wishing he had _something_ to curl his fingers into rather than empty air.

“Love it when you—” another sharp thrust of Reaper’s hips, “—moan for me. Let everyone in here know whose dick makes you feel this good.”

Jack couldn't get out a reply, just moaned something incomprehensible with his face still buried in the table. He made the mistake of lifting his head up just enough to catch the pair of brown eyes staring back at him. It was the woman that Reaper had stared down earlier and she smiled when he caught her gaze. Actually _winked_ at him. There were more pairs of eyes staring at him, he noticed. Some looked very uncomfortable, nervous, while others were looking over his body with darkened, lustful eyes. The group was smaller than the last time he had noted their numbers; one of them must have left when he wasn't paying attention.

The woman reached out one slender arm, as if to push his sweaty bangs away from his face, but Reaper was quick to slam a possessive hand down next to his head hard enough to shake the table. She quickly snatched her hand back, her eyes wide.

“ _Fuck off, Sombra!_ ” Reaper snarled.

She averted her gaze again.

Jack hated the feeling of having so many eyes on him; it was embarrassing, especially when he could feel his own slick starting to drip down his thighs. He was moaning loud enough for the entire building to hear, he was sure, but it just felt so goddamn good to be so full for the first time in years. It was almost enough to make him not care about the blatant voyeurism that was happening. He would let twenty more people watch him if it meant he could keep getting fucked like this.

Reaper’s scent was heady with sex and it washed over him, making Jack’s brain feel like it was full of cotton. The wraith was murmuring something at him, but he was struggling to understand what. Jack inched his hips away from the table enough to gently rut his own ruddy cock against the table in time with Reaper’s thrusts.

Reaper tangled a hand into Jack’s silver hair and tugged. His breathing had become ragged, the slightest hint of what Jack would almost describe as a deep-throated groan with each breath.

“Shit,” Jack panted, “‘m close…” He could feel the warm pressure of his orgasm quickly building up in the pit of his stomach. At this rate, he wouldn't last long.

Slipping a thick arm under his torso, Reaper hoisted him up until his chest was off the table and he was almost standing up again. Rough facial hair scratched against his cheek; Reaper's ragged breath was hot in his ear as he nipped at his earlobe.

“I’m going to breed you until you can't fucking walk tomorrow…”

It was too much for him. Jack’s orgasm tore through his body, leaving him a gasping, shaking mess while Reaper fucked him through it. It was the hardest he'd finished in a long while, the kind where every nerve in his body felt like it was vibrating.

A snarl from Reaper tore Jack from his daze. The wraith slammed his hips into him once, twice, and suddenly Jack could feel him spilling into him, filling him up.

A sudden sharp pain on the side of his neck registered in Jack’s brain and he immediately stilled. Reaper's teeth were clamped onto his neck.

A quiet whimper escaped his mouth as the gravity of the situation hit him. Reaper had _bitten him on the neck_ . A sign of marking, that he was _his_ mate now of all fucking people! The last mark had finally been fading and now this! Panic started to slowly boil over in his gut and rose up into his chest. Any signs of a post-orgasm high were gone and replaced with dread.

“Get off…” 76 demanded slowly, all too calm sounding for someone who had just been marked by a terrorist.

After a few moments, Reaper finally pulled away from Jack's neck and let out a low “Shit” as the reality of the situation dawned on him. His eyes settled on the mark on Jack’s neck where his teeth had pierced skin and left little rivulets of crimson blood. It was already starting to turn a deep purple. “Shit!” He pushed hard at Jack's back and quickly stepped away, leaving Jack feeling cold and empty while the wraith quickly tucked himself back into his pants.

When Jack turned around and his eyes settled on Reaper, he could see that his chest was heaving, his unnaturally dark eyes wide on his heavily scarred face. Black smoke was billowing out from around him and whipping around his thighs.

“I wasn't thinking! I didn't mean…!” Reaper was gaping at him, opening and closing his mouth as if searching for something to say to fix the situation. He pulled a shotgun out from beneath his coat and aimed it at Jack’s head  

Jack was still too stunned to even react to the gun being pointed at him. Too much happening all at once to where his brain felt like it was fizzling out. He'd heard stories about alphas killing their omegas before. It wasn't uncommon for the alpha to die a few days later. Researchers still had no idea why. Jack wondered if the same would happen to Reaper. Death didn't scare him, and at least it'd be one less Talon executive on the face of the planet. 76 idly met Reaper's dark gaze, who was still staring at him wide-eyed. There was a sense of familiarity in his features even though his scarred and mottled complexion didn't match the man from his memories.

With a frustrated grunt, Reaper tossed the gun to the ground and cast a glance around the rest of the room; all eyes were on him in the deathly quiet conference room, just waiting to see what he would do next. Even that woman—Sombra, he had learned—didn't have a smirk on her face for once.

“I didn't mean to…” Reaper repeated stiffly, softer this time. His fists balled up at his sides before he reached down to grab his mask from the floor. Suddenly, his body vanished into a cloud of dark smoke. The two guards from before stepped aside in surprise as the plume of smoke slipped between them and out through the crack beneath the door.

The room was still for several minutes. The remaining Talon members that were still in the room were shooting each other uncomfortable sideways glances, none of them quite sure of what just happened. Finally, the woman from earlier cleared her throat and stood up from her seat. She glanced at 76 and he could almost pick up the slightest bit of what looked like pity in her eyes.

“C’mon, _cariño._ Let's get you cleaned up.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

His _benefactors_ had been kind enough to throw him in one of the many holding cells that were hidden away in the far reaches of the building—in the basement, far away from public eyes. His cell was small and incredibly uncomfortable. They hadn't even bothered to give him a bed; rather, the concrete floor was his bed and the white stone walls his only source of entertainment. In his boredom, he’d counted the number of stones in the wall at least five times until he came to the conclusion that there were 218 stones. He was a patient man. But after his fifth time counting stones and the tenth consecutive hour of his insides trying to murder him, he _really_ would not have minded if Talon had just killed him instead of locking him up.

His insides were cramping. Every time he moved, throbbing pain would shoot through his gut like a knife. Sweat poured down his face and chest as if his body hadn't gotten the memo that it was actually winter outside and probably freezing in the building’s basement.

To say that he was miserable would be an understatement. And he was in _no mood_ to deal with the woman who had pulled up a chair next to his cell and was currently filing her long nails. While normally he wouldn't have minded the company—she seemed nice enough despite being Talon—she was, unfortunately, an irreverent chatterbox. _Just his luck._

“So, like, since you're in heat and all, can you make babies? Or are you too old for that? Can males even make babies? I haven't met many male omegas. The ones I have met were too scared to talk to me. Go figure!”

Despite the pain when he moved, Jack laid down on his side and pressed his heated face against the cool concrete floor. Anything to bring his body temperature down. He tried to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing. “Not in a good spot to talk right now,” Jack gritted out.

“No problem. I don't mind keeping you company, even if this will be a one-sided conversation.” Sombra looked up from her nail file and shot him a smile. “You smell really good. Flowery. It's a nice change from most guys I meet.”

This woman was so obtuse it wasn't even funny. He figured that the way he was laying on the floor and saying that he didn't want to talk would be an indicator that he wanted to be left alone. But apparently that wasn't obvious enough for her. Jack wanted to shout at her that he didn't care, that he just wanted her to go away, but he feared that any amount of exertion would only cause him more pain. So he laid there and endured it. He closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to get you an ibuprofen or something, _cariño?”_ Sombra asked. The usual sarcasm in her voice was gone, replaced with a more gentle (Jack hesitated to say caring) tone. “I’ve got a really good thing of spiced honey tequila I could share if that would help. I picked it up when I was in—”

“An ibuprofen would be great.”

There was the sound of a heavy door opening and shutting on the opposite side of the hall. His nostrils flared. Jack could smell him before he could actually see him: heady musk with a trace of gunpowder and sweat. Gabriel. _Thank God._ Jack cracked one eye open, only to see a pair of steel-toed boots stop just after the door. He saw Sombra start a bit.

“Hey, Gabe.”

“ _Sombra.”_ Reaper's fists were clenched at his sides, his posture rigid. Like a snake poised to kill. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“We were chatting. I figured our guest here might want some company.”

“And you figured you'd be the one to keep him company?”

Sombra sniffed, indignant. She raised an eyebrow. “Figured you wouldn't be coming by to take care of your omega after the way you stormed off yesterday. Poor thing's in a lot of pain, _amigo._ You planning on doing something about it?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed at the mention of _your omega._

“Leave. Now.”

“I told him I'd get him an ibuprofen—”

“ _Leave!”_ Reaper took a step forward and slammed a fist into the stone wall with a loud thud, sending small pieces of rock crumbling to the ground. Thin tendrils of cracked stone radiated out from where his fist was buried.

Jack's eyes shot wide. His heart rate quickened; he was in no shape to deal with two aggressive alphas right now, especially if they were to get into a fight. The amount of pheromones radiating off of Reaper alone, almost sickeningly pungent, was enough to mask any other scent in the room. Jack curled up on himself a bit tighter but kept his eyes glued to the scene unfolding before him.

Sombra shot up out of her chair and threw her hands up defensively. Her teeth were bared and Jack's eyes were drawn to the glint of her prominent canines. “Fine, sheesh, I'm going! Don't get your panties in a bunch!” She slinked past Reaper, avoiding eye contact all the while. “I didn't have sex with him, if that's what you're all pissy about!” With that, she opened the door and slid away, but not before shooting one last glance over her shoulder at the vigilante. “Let's talk more later, Jack.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Reaper pulled his fist away from the wall. He'd left a decent sized crater in the stone; it would have been an impressive feat had Jack not known his history with the SEP. “I'm going to fucking kill her the next time I see her in here,” Reaper mumbled to no one in particular. He turned his attention to Jack. Although he couldn't see the wraith's eyes, it felt as if he was scrutinizing him. “Did she touch you?” His voice was taught.

Jack closed his eyes again, trying to block out the mental image of Reaper almost punching a hole through a wall that was, for some reason, incredibly provocative to his hormone-addled brain. _Damn, he was desperate…_ “No. Did you get my message?” he asked, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.

“Hard not to. I can feel your needy ass clear on the opposite side of the building.” Reaper took a deep breath and exhaled slowly until the tone of his voice had evened out. “On top of that, you reek. I'm surprised there weren't more people in here trying to fuck you.”

Jack chuckled lightly at that and immediately winced in pain. “God, I wish there had been. Not for lack of me trying.” He sighed. ”This is your fault, you know.”

“What is?”

With his eyes still closed, Jack gestured vaguely to himself. “All of this.”

“My fault? You’re the one that came prowling around here while on your heat.”

Jack ignored his statement. Instead, he sat up on the floor and, with an unsteady hand, pulled the collar of his jacket aside. There was a deep purple bruise on his neck. The shiny stretched flesh from decade-old scars, barely visible from the passage of time, could be seen beside two rows of fresh puncture wounds. They'd only recently begun to scab over, but Jack knew that even with his advanced healing that there would be new scars once they healed, that they would continue to burn like hell for years whenever the wraith was within arms reach. “You marked me!” said Jack. ”I'm too goddamn old to be _marked,_ Gabriel. Especially by you. And the fact that I'm locked up in here doesn't help the situation!”

“You know that wasn't my intention. It just sort of… happened,” said Gabriel through clenched teeth.

“And I'm the one that has to suffer because you couldn't control yourself!”

“ _Bullshit._ ” His voice was a growl by this point, heavy with malice. Jack heard Reaper exhale loudly. His footsteps echoed in the hall as he began slowly pacing in front of the cell. “I talked to the doctor. She said this would go away in time if we just…” he gritted his teeth again, “ _don't act on it.”_

76 swallowed heavily and cracked open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy. “For how long?”

Reaper was silent for a moment. “At least a year.”

“ _A year?_ ” Jack almost sobbed at that. Despite his protesting body, he turned to face Reaper, his eyes wide. “You think I'm going to make it through a week, much less a year?” He couldn't believe it! It felt like this heat was going to kill him! “I’ve tried sleeping it off. I've tried masturbating _several_ times. I've tried—” He swallowed heavily. ”Nothing helps. You feel it too, don't you, Gabe?”

More silence. He had taken to staring at something in the distance.

“ _Gabriel…”_ Sweat was pouring down his face. Jack looked up from beneath his lashes. He wasn't the type to beg, ever, but this was _miserable_ … “I feel like I'm going to explode. Screw waiting for this bond to go away, I can't wait a fucking year!” Jack clenched his teeth. ”Mate with me. Please?”

Reaper's arms were still crossed in front of his chest. “Why don't you ask one of the guards?”

“You think I haven't tried?” He was shouting and he knew it. But Gabriel was being so fucking— “I've asked three of them, Gabe. _Three._ They're all afraid of you!” His voice hitched. ”This hasn't happened to me in years! But you walk into the damn picture and suddenly—” His voice broke. “Please? Gabe?”

“I’ll go ask one of the betas myself. I'm sure they'd be more than happy—”

Jack actually _whined_ at the mention of the guards, like he was some sort of puppy and not a damn decorated veteran in his 50’s. It was pathetic. “Fuck them!” Pain be damned, Jack stood up and strode towards the bars of his cell until he was mere inches from Reaper. Having him this close made his head swim, but he still managed to reach through the bars, grip the hem of his black coat, and pull him roughly against the bars until his masked face slammed against them with a clang. Reaper let out a hiss and grasped a bar with each hand. “It doesn't _work_ like that when you're mated!” Jack growled behind gritted teeth. He didn't have time for this shit. “You fucking know that!”

“Don't touch me!” Reaper snapped. Reaper jerked himself free from his grasp and took a step away from the bars, out of Jack’s reach. His normally low and rough voice was pitched higher than usual, Jack noticed, his breathing already heavy.

Jack continued, “There's no way you would let anyone else have sex with me, anyway. I saw how you were yesterday—how you were _today—_ acting like you _owned me_ for some reason I still can't comprehend!” Jack tightened his grip on the bars, his voice frantic. “You almost killed someone for trying to touch me!”

“And I’d do it again.” Heavy plumes of dark smoke were billowing out from around the wraith's legs.

“I don't understand you! You say I should ask other people, and then you go and pull this crap—” Jack quickly stopped himself. This was ridiculous; his emotions were getting ahead of him. His heart was racing; he needed to calm down. He swallowed heavily and took a shaky breath.

An idea hit him, and Jack couldn't help the sly smile that crept up his face.

“I'm sure Doomfist would be willing to fuck me through my heat.” Jack glanced at Reaper; his fists were clenched at his sides, his posture rigid. A small victory. He continued, “Probably wouldn't be as fulfilling if you had done it, but at least it'd be something.”

“I know what you're doing. Stop.” His voice sounded calm, but Jack could hear the way it wavered with lessening restraint.

“Have him breed me for as long as he wants. Maybe have him put a pup in my belly—”

Reaper was suddenly walking past the bars of his cell in a gust of dark smoke before pausing for just a moment to materialize beside him. A gloved hand clasped roughly around his throat and Reaper continued to walk forward as if the vigilante weighed nothing. Jack had to scramble backwards, his feet dragging against the floor as his blunt nails dug uselessly into Reaper's arm, to keep from choking until his back finally hit the stone wall of the cell. Even then the wraith refused to remove the hand at his throat, just kept applying a threatening amount of pressure. He stepped in front of him and leaned in until Jack could feel the smooth texture of his mask against his ear.

“Bet you think you're real fucking clever. I'm trying my best to show restraint here, and you're making it real—” his grip around his throat tightened, “—fucking difficult to not fuck you on this floor right now until you're begging me to stop. What part of _‘I'm doing this for the both of us’_ are you not understanding?”

In a normal situation, Jack would have been incredibly stressed out. A man—ghost, monster, whatever he was now—had walked through solid bars and had the very real potential to strangle him to death. Yet all his brain seemed to be able to do at the moment was fantasize about Reaper fucking him through his heat, hand still at his throat if he misbehaved, pounding into him for hours until he was too exhausted to stand and then taking him on the floor. He did his best to shake it away, but a small whimper escaped his mouth. His erection was practically throbbing in the confines of his pants. Jack wished he could grind against Reaper’s thigh. Against anything. His own slick felt like it was starting to soak through his pants, much to his own embarrassment.

Desperate, Jack reached into the space between his and Reaper’s bodies and pawed at his own erection—anything to alleviate the discomfort he was feeling. Reaper’s head immediately snapped down, trying to figure out just what the hell he was doing, before focusing back on Jack's face. He was sure he was an absolute _sight_ : red faced, breathing heavy, practically dripping sweat, sweat-slicked hair sticking up at every odd angle because it really was too damn hot in that room. Had it been any other time, he would have been humiliated to be seen like this. But for once in his life, Jack was desperate _._ “Gabry… Please? Just once?”

Reaper didn't respond for several moments. Finally, he removed his hand from Jack's throat, who immediately took large gulps of air into his desperate lungs. “God damn it, Jack…” Reaper rumbled. He almost sounded exasperated. “How the fuck am I supposed to last for a year when you're this fucking needy?” His clawed hands were on him, teasing at his belt, and Jack could have sobbed with relief.

“You're the one that did this to me, jackass!”

“Enough with that. Or I'll change my mind.” Talons gripped the zipper of his jacket and tugged it down.

Jack’s eyes shot wide. ”Change your mind? Does that mean…?”

“I’m only doing this _once._ Understand?”

Jack nodded his head eagerly. Anything to get him to hurry up.

“Good. Take your pants off.”

The vigilante did as he was told, eagerly taking off his boots and pants. His leather jacket and under armor soon followed—too hot in that room to be wearing layers of clothes. Even through the mask, he could feel Reaper’s eyes looking him over; it made Jack's length twitch against his belly, smearing precome against the dark trail of body hair there.

Reaper took off his coat and tossed it into a corner. He pressed his back to the stone wall and sat with his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked at him, expectant.

Jack watched hungrily as Reaper pushed up his mass of belts and undid his pants before pulling himself out. The wraith was already hard as he began lazily stroking himself. Sitting there with his cock in hand, already breathing heavily, he looked absolutely pornographic. It was enough to make Jack bite his lower lip in anticipation and scrabble towards the wraith on his hands and knees in what must have been the most pathetic display of his life.

He straddled Reaper’s lap, his legs folded beneath him, before eagerly lining himself up and sinking down onto Reaper’s length. A small whimper escaped his mouth and his eyes rolled back as Reaper filled him—all too perfect. The cramping sensation he had been feeling was replaced with a feeling of satiety. Jack let his head fall forward onto Reaper’s broad shoulder and savored the feeling of being full.

After a few moments, Reaper shifted beneath him and placed a hand on his hip. “Everything alright?”

“Hm?” Jack looked up at his masked face. His brain felt fuzzy. “Yeah.”

“Then get to work before I get impatient.”

Right. He was expected to move. He could do that. Taking a shaky breath, Jack lifted himself up until only the head of Reaper's cock was inside him before dropping back down with a wet squelch. Reaper let out a small gasp followed by a pleased hum. It was like music to Jack’s ears. He started riding him with fervor—anything to get more of those sounds out of the wraith.

The pain in his gut had been replaced with a pleasant warmth spreading throughout his body. A low buzz, louder than the last time they had been together, filled his ears and drowned out anything that wasn’t Gabriel. It was the same buzzing he had felt over a decade ago, the last time he and Gabe had been together. It was nice. Comforting.

Jack leaned backwards enough until Reaper’s length _finally_ brushed against that sensitive spot inside him and it was enough to draw a deep-throated whine out of him. Using his calves to lift himself up, Jack repeatedly bounced himself up and down, abusing his prostate on Reaper’s cock, until he could feel heat starting to coil up in his gut. He wrapped a fist around his own neglected cock, savoring the overload of sensations throughout his body. Sensing the urgency in his motions, Reaper gripped his hips and dragged him down to the hilt before shallowly thrusting inside of him from his seat on the floor. Before Jack could get a word of warning out, he was finishing into his loose fist with a sob. Unthinking, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Reaper’s neck as he rode out the rest of his orgasm, a quivering mess on Reaper’s lap.

His whole body felt boneless. Warm. He stayed like that, wrapped around the terrorist’s neck, for several moments, listening to the sounds of Reaper’s heavy breathing harmonizing with his own.

It was only when Reaper tightened his grip on his hip and gave a shallow impatient thrust did Jack remember that the other man had not finished yet.

“Can you go again?” Reaper asked. His voice sounded hoarse.

“Give me a second, but yeah,” Jack panted into the leather on Reaper’s coat. Refusing to lift his head up, he eyed the area, looking for something to wipe his hands off on in the empty cell. A smirk spread across his face and he wiped his hands off on Reaper's back before pulling his head away.

“I fucking hate you,” Reaper groaned.

“Bold thing to say to the man you're still inside of. Fuck me again.” It was a command now instead of a request because he knew that the wraith was just as sex-starved as he was at that moment. Jack slid himself up and off of Reaper’s length before Reaper's hands were on him, roughly pushing against his chest.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Jack did as he was told despite the way his knees cracked when he put his weight on them; he was getting too old for this shit. But it was worth it. Jack watched as Reaper sidled up behind him, grabbed his hips, and, with no warning, thrusted back into his slick insides with a pleased hum. There was little time to adjust to Reaper’s girth before he was mercilessly pounding into him. Jack gasped as he bottomed out inside him, only to slowly pull back out and slam into him again.

“From the way you almost killed that guy yesterday, I would have figured—ah—you'd have been more eager to do this today...” said Jack with a grunt. He could see beads of sweat rolling down his face and onto the concrete floor.

Reaper stilled, just for a moment. “Are you deaf? I told you my reasons. Me not wanting to do this had nothing to do with what I _wanted,”_ Reaper growled. Pulling Jack's hips into his thrusts, he picked up the pace again, rougher than before. His claws pricked at the sensitive skin on his hips, causing small beads of blood to well up. “All I've been able to think about today is wanting to fuck you. I can't get any goddamn work done because it's constantly on my mind!”

Jack let out a choked groan. At least he wasn't the only one suffering because of his mistake, albeit Jack would wager his was much worse.  If Reaper couldn't get any work done—good. It was his fault. Maybe he'd think twice before just up and _biting_ someone.

Reaper slid a hand over to his ass, gave it an appreciative squeeze. “Hard to focus during meetings when I can feel how much you want my dick from all the way down here,” he panted out. “Fuck, you feel good…” His heavy breathing, acrid and loud, made it sound like he was getting close. He hooked an arm over where Jack’s forearm and upper arm connected and pulled back, causing the vigilante to lose his balance and stumble onto his other forearm. Reaper was over him in an instant, pushing down between his shoulder blades until Jack’s cheek was almost touching the ground. “This ass is mine!”

The vigilante wanted to remind him that by no means was he his, to reel back and punch him for even thinking so, but a sudden jolt of pleasure made his brain short-circuit and the words lost on his tongue. He couldn't be close again already, could he?

Reaper ground his hips into him hard. “God, Jack...” he groaned, breathless.

One, two thrusts into him and Reaper let out what Jack could only describe as a snarl. He flinched at the hot liquid that suddenly filled his insides but was quick to follow suit in a silent scream, his eyes clamped shut ad waves of white-hot pleasure that overtook his body; weaker than before, but still enough to make him see stars behind his eyelids.

They stayed together for a few moments. Jack could feel Reaper’s rapid heartbeat against his skin as they caught their breath. Reaper was all but supporting his weight on Jack’s back—not helpful, considering that Jack’s body felt like gelatin at that moment and he was not in the mood to have the wraith flopped over on his already sweaty back. “Get off,” Jack demanded gruffly.

“When the hell did you become such an overbearing omega?” Reaper asked with a huff.

“The minute I got a heat after I thought I was finally done with this omega crap. Get off.”

Reaper slapped his ass hard enough to make the vigilante grunt but was courteous enough to oblige the request; he sat up on his knees behind him between his legs, but did not pull out. His still-hard cock twitched with interest inside of him. Jack went to pull off, but sharp talons on his hips stopped him and pulled him back.

“Stay,” the wraith demanded. He gave a shallow thrust.

“Take it you can go another round then?” Jack let out a shuddering breath and pressed back against Reaper's hips. “Good.”

They went another two times before Jack finally felt sated, like he'd finally gotten the itch at the back of his brain. Back in the day, he would have been able to go at it at least another four times before feeling satisfied. But he was exhausted now and felt like he could curl up and sleep for a solid four days.

With a grunt, Reaper pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. “Better now?” he asked. All the vehemence was gone from his voice, instead coming out as a gravely purr. He sounded as tired as Jack felt.

“Mhm.” Jack yawned. “For now, anyway. Still have a couple days of my heat left.” His knees cracked as he stood up and he winced as he felt Reaper’s seed starting to run down his thigh. This feeling would only last for a couple of hours, he knew, before his damn hormones would start acting up again. He wasn't looking forward to that, but at least he could enjoy his brain being silent for a little bit.

Upon seeing Reaper grab his black coat from the corner of the cell, a sudden pang of emotion hit Jack and his mouth started going before his brain could catch up. “Hey,” Jack started. He went to grab his pants to avoid having to make eye contact with the wraith while he spoke. “I hate asking—you and I both know that—but, uh,” he cleared his throat, ”would you be willing to stay here? Until this heat’s over? Or we could go to, uh, your room. If you have one here.” He pulled his pants up; his thighs were still tacky. “It'd make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier on me.”

From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Reaper still and stop fastening his coat before slowly turning around to face him. His heart sunk a bit at the way he was silent for several moments, rigid, before finally speaking up.

“I can't. You know that. I told you I would only do this once.”

“Yeah, but… Please, Gabriel?” Jack swallowed. ”You did this to me. It's the least you can do.”

“I don't owe you shit. You're being held captive. Don't forget that.” Latching the last of the belts on his coat, Reaper drifted through the bars of the cell and walked out of the room without another word.

\------

Jack slept fitfully that night. (Was it even nighttime? His circadian rhythm had been thrown off.) He would doze for 15-minute intervals before being woken up by frantic dreams, only to fall asleep again a few minutes later. The desire to mate had come back full force until his dreams were filled with sexual tension, sweaty tumblings with faceless figures  that always resulted in dissatisfaction. He repeatedly woke up on the floor in a pool of his own sweat; it had thoroughly soaked through his undershirt at this point. He was sure that he reeked and would have done anything for a shower. He wished that Talon would hurry up and interrogate him, kill him, torture him—whatever the hell they had planned. The wait was killing him.

There was the sound of heavy bootsteps in the distance. Jack swore that it had all been a dream, that he was only dreaming about Gabriel, until the sound of sound of his cell slamming open ripped him from his daze. Jack squinted against the fluorescent lights in the room, all too bright and painful to his sensitive eyes, only to pick out Reaper’s masked face staring down at him, his arms crossed.

“Get up.”

“Wh—?”

“Get up. Follow me.”

Jack stared at Reaper for several moments, his thoughts foggy from sleep. His brain needed time to process what was happening. “Why? What?”

“I have too much shit to do right now and I can't deal with you on top of it,” said Reaper.

“Deal with me?” Jack blinked. His voice was course from how dry his throat was. Had he done something recently? It didn't make sense to his brain fogged up from sleep.

“Can't think. I have this constant urge to fight the other alphas and protect—” Reaper cleared his throat. ”It's not exactly conducive to a work environment. I need you to get as far away from here as possible.”

“What?” It almost sounded like… “You letting me go?”

“Consider it payback for all of…” Reaper gestured vaguely behind himself and shifted his position, ”this.”

Yeah, right. Like three days of dealing with his heat without an alpha and a month of withdrawal symptoms from being far away from an alpha was _payback._ Hell, if he stayed imprisoned at least he wouldn't have to deal with the withdrawal as long as Gabe stayed in the general vicinity. Maybe he could convince him to—no. What was he thinking? This was a second chance to meet back up with Ana and regroup. Come up with a new plan for what the hell they were going to do next. Jack grunted and wiped at his eyes before standing up. A sudden chill wracked his body, enough to take his breath away. This heat couldn't go away fast enough.

There was the sound of something being punched into a digital pad. His cell door clicked as it unlocked. Winded, Jack pushed the door open and joined Reaper as he stood there expectantly with his arms crossed. It took everything Jack had not to reach out and touch him. To seek the comfort that only contact with the alpha could bring him at that moment. Anything to take the damn edge off.

“Are your higher-ups aware you're doing this?”

Reaper set off without a word, leading him out off the cell room and up the stairs, through the winding colorless corridors of the compound and through unmarked doors. They passed several troops clad in gunsmoke-colored armor—Talon guards, Jack recognized. They were quick to step out of Reaper's way and salute but Jack could feel their withering gazes on him as he passed. He purposefully squared his shoulders and dared to make eye contact with each of them—to not show any signs of weakness despite feeling the beginnings of cramps in his gut. Occasionally, Jack heard Reaper give out a soft animalistic growl and he wasn't sure if it was at him or the Talon guards.

Finally, they reached what Jack figured was the back door of the compound. Reaper punched in another sequence of numbers into a digital pad and pushed it open, flooding the small room with bright sunlight. “Go straight here from here for about half a mile and you'll hit a road,” he rasped. The wind from the outdoors was blowing the faint smoke that surrounded the wraith around the room. “Don't get in my way for at least 12 months. For both of us.”

 _Or what,_ Jack was tempted to ask. _You'll breed me? Kill me?_ The first option didn't sound terrible at that moment. Squinting against the sunlight, Jack glanced at Reaper. It was impossible to read his expression, much to his chagrin. “I'm not on blockers or scent suppressors. You sure you want me walking that half mile?” Jack didn't know why the words came out of his mouth. Probably came from the primal part of his brain that was hoping for Gabriel to just scoop him up and take him away to their own private nest and take care of him until his heat was done and over with.

The rational part of his brain knew what a terrible idea that would be.

Reaper stared at him for several moments, as if contemplating. Finally, he spoke up. “I'll get someone to give you a ride to town. You can get a taxi from there. Stay here.”

“Gabriel—” Jack reached out without thinking—he seemed to be doing a lot of that recently—and grabbed Reaper’s shoulder as he was turning. A sudden jolt of endorphins shot through his body at the contact and he heard the wraith inhale sharply. His chaotic thoughts quickly dispersed and were replaced with a content fog. His fingers tingled where they touched the soft leather of Reaper's coat. Like that, the feeling was gone again as Reaper brushed the touch off.

“Don't touch me!” Reaper barked. He exhaled slowly. “Just… Stay away from me, Jack.”

Jack blinked at him slowly, looked between him and the open door before Reaper stepped away, shrouding the room in darkness once more before he turned around and walked away without another word, leaving Jack gaping after him like a fish out of water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always headcanon-ed Jack as a "dad swears" kind of guy where the absolute worst word he'll drop in a casual conversation is crap or damn.  
> If Overwatch were M rated Gabe would casually find a way to fit 8 F-bombs into a single sentence when describing what he had for lunch and feel zero remorse

**Author's Note:**

> I have 364 other stories to finish but here I am starting new ones. 😎👌


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